THIS IS THE PAGE FOR ENGLISH 10D'S COLLABORATIVE SHORT STORY YOU CAN ENTER AND ADD YOUR OWN PARAGRAPH AFTER OCT 27. LAST ENTRY BY THE CLASS IS NOVEMBER 14, 2013.
Instructions: Keep it clean. No real names. My advice is to stick with the plot diagram we discussed (short story elements handout). Activating Circumstance, Rising Action, Climax, Denouement. Consider starting with Setting (time, place). You may write as much as you want, but remember it may be subsequently edited for grammar, fluency and cohesiveness.
Summer School
This is my first time teaching a regular class while being a full time teacher. Because I am tardy, I fully expect to be penalized strongly for my transgressions. While I was running to my class on this day, the experience brought back many fond childhood memories.When I started junior high school decades ago, I remember my ninth grade math teacher reprimanding me for my tardiness by giving me a long detention. It was from that moment on that made sure to never be late for class again. However, my mental discipline was not strong enough to fight the urge to skip class. From then on, every class I skipped or partially missed because of my laziness, was always my math class. Even in summer school class, when I had to take a math course for getting C's in math until 10th grade, it was almost impossible to find classes to which I arrived on time. The reason that I remember this so clearly is because the summer school teacher was the one who motivated me to become a math teacher. I remember his name fondly - Mr. Beelike. His work habits were similar to mine. He was lazy himself, thus he was very accepting of my tardiness. I feel that his personality allowed me to reach my full potential in math. From the moment I first met Mr. Beelike, I could see a sparkle in his eyes, and feel the passion in his voice. It made me think about about becoming a mathematics teacher, just like Mr. Beelike. So I eliminated C's and D's from my report cards for the rest of my high school career. All of these life experiences paved the way for my future career as high school mathematics teacher.
It is summer, I have just completed -or at least, partially completed- 9th grade. I have always considered myself a failure. Though my parents have Ph. Ds, and my older brother got accepted into Yale two months ago, I am the exact opposite. It is 7:00 AM right now on a bright and sunny day, and I am getting ready for the first day of the misery that is to come. To be more specific: summer school. During my freshmen year of high school, I got C’s and D’s in all of my classes. I never did the homework, and I also skipped some classes. To make things worse, I go to a private boarding school. My parents insist that it is good for me, but luckily, I only stay there during the school year. Thankfully it is co-ed, because I would hate to be in a school full of girls. What is really bugging me is that I am going to summer school for what both my parents got their Ph. Ds in – math.
I look up at my messy wardrobe and pull out two random pieces of clothing – one tank top that’s been tie-dyed and unwashed for weeks, and a pair of my black leggings that I have never gotten rid of. As always, I leave my bed messy for my parents to clean up. I put on my red Cardinals cap from my nightstand as I tie my blonde hair into a ponytail. I look around to see if there are any notebooks for me to use, but I see none. Fortunately though, I find a pencil case filled with number 2 pencils. I head towards my backpack to see if anything else was to be needed. Somehow, there was a red Hilroy notebook with the word “Nirvana” written across it many times. With everything ready, I leave my room to go find my parents to see if one of them could drive me.
"Mom? Dad? I've got to go to school now. Is it possible for one of you to drive me?" I asked. "Nope, Erin, I'm leaving for work in 2 minutes. You have to exercise anyways. Go walk for once." my dad replies. Mom doesn't even bother to answer. I leave the room and start walking to school. Thankfully, the sky is blue and clear. The sun filters through the clouds, signalling the end of the rain. It's a nice day out, and flowers are shooting out here and there. With an apple in my mouth, I search through my bag to see if I am missing anything that I need for school. I realize that I forgot my math textbook at home. I turn back lazily to get my dull, boring textbook, and bump into some guy.
After climbing up two flights of stairs, I finally find my classroom. I grab a seat in the back corner of the room, because every other seat is occupied. It is 8:45 in the morning, and the class is supposed to start at 8:30. However, I do not notice any teacher standing or sitting in the entire room. ''What's going on here?'' I ponder to myself. Five minutes later, the school principal walks in and informs the class that the teacher will be a bit late. It takes me quite a bit of time and mental effort to realize that the school principal is the guy I ran into this morning. ''What a coincidence?'' I think to myself, ''I guess the dude I bumped into is our principal. He must be a clumsy one, just like me.'' I laughed loudly at myself afterwards.
The principal continued speaking, "My name is Mr. Tyler, how is everyone's day?" "Good!" Students shouted. "So what class is this?" Mr. Tyler asked. One student replied, "Math 10." "Math... right, that is a fun subject to learn. I had this teacher named Mr. Booze, he was probably the best math teacher! He liked to set things on fire and make jokes about the class. Once he..." Mr. Tyler's voice faded out in my mind, as I drifted into my own little world. I was too lazy to listen about his past. Since I had only slept for six hours that past night, I was tired. I looked outside, at the sky, it was still sunny and full of clouds. I checked my watch; it was 9:10. "God! I wish time could move faster! The class isn't even half over yet!" I thought to myself. The whole class burst into laughter. I had no idea what they were talking about, and was too lazy to care. Suddenly, my heart dropped - I heard footsteps approaching.
"Hey, Mr.Beelike! You finally made it!" Mr.Taylor shouted as a person showed up at the front door looking rushed and messy. My attention was suddenly drawn to him. Similar to my assumption, my math teacher was dressing in a faded T-shirt, and a pair of old-fashioned trousers. I was feeling lucky because I could feel he was not a strict teacher; rather quite an amiable one. At first glance, I could feel his enthusiasm and passion, even from the back row. Mr. Beelike and Mr. Tyler exchanged greetings; Mr. Beelike first apologized for being late, and then began to introduce himself. He talked all about himself. His hobbies, his family, and the schools that he had been teaching in. I grew bored, and started devising a plan to skip summer school. The class fell silent suddenly, and the students all stared at me. I was not aware that Mr. Beelike had reached the front of my desk, and that he was casting a shadow on me. "You look like you are thinking about something joyful," Mr. Beelike joked, kindly. "Would you like to share it with us?" Having so many strangers focused on me for the first time made me feel quite awkward and somewhat irritated.
"Uh." I am so embarrassed by so many strangers staring at me, and I can't think a single word in my head. " Well, I understand your feeling. I was a student who had C's and D's when I was in grade 10. I will try to rekindle your interest in math class." It seems like Mr. Beelike is a nice teacher, and that he's just trying to make me feel better in front of the class. After the conversation between us, he went back to his own table and handed out course outlines. I take a look at the sheet and Mr. Beelike started talking. "As you can see, we have 6 chapters..." The boredom starts to creep up on me; I don't think this teacher will rekindle my interest in math. About 5 minutes later, he finishes talking about the course outline, and starts to talk again, but this time in a serious tone. This caught my attention. "You will have your provincial exam in August, and I hope you all take this seriously because grade 10 is really important to your high school career, and your applications to universities and colleges. I hope that everyone passes this course." He sounds the same as all the other teachers. I start plan to about skipping summer school again.
"Look outside class. Wouldn't you rather be spending your time with your friends on this beautiful day? It doesn't make any sense to spend 9 or 10 months a year in school, just to do it all over again in summer. You could make this your last few months at summer school. All you have to do is try harder next year, so you can spend the next summer outdoors. I know that everyone is perfectly capable." "Oh please," I thought. Even if I did try harder, there was no way that I'd ever understand this subject. I've always been better at creating art and playing sports, not reading this strange language of numbers and symbols.
Mr. Beelike starts to talk about chapter one as soon as he finishes his so-called presentation on the outline. He wrote some questions that seemed familiar on the board. My mind started to wander again. "I should totally skip summer school." I get my phone out from my backpack and proceed to text my friend. The class falls into the strange silence again. I look up, and Mr. Beelike is staring at me. “Can you come up and do this question please? I don’t think that it's too difficult, come up and try.” I am totally caught off guard, but I don't panic.
I hide my phone as quickly as possible behind my pencil case. I get up and walk toward the board. I take one glance at Mr. Beelike, and there he is - watching me, expecting me to answer the question perfectly. I sigh. "Why should I be the one who comes up and does the question." I stopped at the board and stood there for a few seconds. "Whatever, I will just solve it in a random way, and then let the teacher fix the mistakes I make." I picked up a piece of chalk and started writing. Mr. Beelike didn't say anything. He looked at me quietly and waited until I finished. "Do you think you know how to do this?" He asked with a nice smile. "I don't think so." I knew what I wrote, so I answered his question honestly. He began to question me: "Then why don't you just say you don't know, there's nothing wrong with it. Now go sit down and I will show you and the class how to solve these kinds of problems." Mr. Beelike kept smiling at me which made me feel weird. I couldn't tell what was actually in his mind.
He started to show us how to solve that problem, but I had no interest in it. I got out my phone again and continued to text my friend. After a few seconds, Mr. Beelike stopped talking. Suddenly, he came up to me. I held my breath and quickly hid my phone. I heard the footsteps coming closer and closer; I looked up. He stood at my desk and smiled at me. "That's so weird." I thought. Normally, teachers would take away my phone, they never smile at me when I am texting in their class. He stood there, silent for a couple of seconds and then said to me. "Listen kid, I know this isn't your passion, nor is it what you want to do, but you can’t just not do it. Life won’t get any easier as you grow up, so learn to deal with things as they come." I turned my head, not convinced about what he had said. I don’t like math it’s hard, it’s complicated, it doesn't make sense and it’s useless! This is literally what was going through my mind the whole time. He then asked me about my hobbies. "Computers! Oh I love computers! Their programs, the many services they offer, the way they function, their format, the mouse, the keyboard and just everything about the computer world." Mr. B smiled, looking very happy about my enthusiasm. He then told me something that cheered me up and gave me hope. He said that if you like something, you should always do your best regardless of how pricey or difficult it may be. He said: "Now for the love of computers, promise me that you'll do well in math, in order to get into computers and explore more about them." I got inspired and motivated about what Mr. B had told me, payed attention, and told myself that for the love of computers, I’ll pass this course.
*
As I walked towards my classroom, half anxious and half excited, I was curious about the students with whom I would be spending the whole year. I was looking forward to establishing genuine connections with each individual student, and trying my best to show them how fun math can be. I arrived at the heavy, beige, oak door, which had reminded me of a prison door for much of my high school years. I carefully peeked through the window. There I saw a number of little heads popping up from their books, cell phones, and iPods: every one of them different and unique. They portrayed a range of various personalities that I would have to deal with. I could already tell that this class was going to be interesting. I took a deep breath and walked into the classroom as confidently as I could. All eyes were on me now. I cleared my throat.
"Hello everyone, welcome to math 10. I am Ms. Wilkinson, your math teacher for the year."
Now that I was taking a close look at the class, I distinguished the diverse expressions of the students. About one third of them appeared eager and enthusiastic, with shining eyes and a boisterous, "Hi Ms. Wilkinson!". The remaining two thirds looked exhausted and unmotivated. I was almost finished scanning the class when one student caught my eye. She was distinctively familiar, like I had met her a very long time ago. Her blonde hair was messily tied back, she was wearing a tie-dyed tank top, black leggings, and lastly, a Red Cardinals cap. Then it came to me. "Oh My Gosh. She was a replica of me in Grade 10!'' I thought.
I was determined to make sure that this class fulfills it's highest potential in Math 10. Everyone seemed hardworking and respectful, which made me love my job even more. Everyday, at the beginning of class, I would tell my students to hand in their three worksheets, which I gave them every class. Every time I marked the girl with the Red Cardinals cap's worksheet, it felt like I was marking an adolescent version of myself. Even her hand writing was very similar! The way she wrote her a's made me think of my day's, back when I was a teenager. Still, she seemed much brighter than I was. I made some bad decisions as a high school student, some of which I will never forget. For example, the time that I lost my red cap much like hers. As I observed her behavior in class, I noticed that she was quite and shy as well as a bit confused of what was going on around. However, she was attentive in class. I wanted to talk to her, and get to know a little about her personality. Mostly for my own selfish, nostalgic reasons.
During the class, everyone was really quiet and attentive as I explained how to solve a question. But when I browsed the whole classroom, I saw the replica of me. She was looking down at her pants. I knew what was going on. I asked her to come up and solve the question, instead of asking her to put her phone away. She just stood there. I could tell that she didn't know how to do it, so I said: "Why don't you just say that you don't know how to do it." She looked at me. After a second I smiled at her, because I had realized that they're teenagers, and that's what teenagers do.
YOU CAN ENTER AND ADD YOUR OWN PARAGRAPH AFTER OCT 27.
LAST ENTRY BY THE CLASS IS NOVEMBER 14, 2013.
Instructions: Keep it clean. No real names. My advice is to stick with the plot diagram we discussed (short story elements handout). Activating Circumstance, Rising Action, Climax, Denouement. Consider starting with Setting (time, place). You may write as much as you want, but remember it may be subsequently edited for grammar, fluency and cohesiveness.
Summer School
This is my first time teaching a regular class while being a full time teacher. Because I am tardy, I fully expect to be penalized strongly for my transgressions. While I was running to my class on this day, the experience brought back many fond childhood memories.When I started junior high school decades ago, I remember my ninth grade math teacher reprimanding me for my tardiness by giving me a long detention. It was from that moment on that made sure to never be late for class again. However, my mental discipline was not strong enough to fight the urge to skip class. From then on, every class I skipped or partially missed because of my laziness, was always my math class. Even in summer school class, when I had to take a math course for getting C's in math until 10th grade, it was almost impossible to find classes to which I arrived on time. The reason that I remember this so clearly is because the summer school teacher was the one who motivated me to become a math teacher. I remember his name fondly - Mr. Beelike. His work habits were similar to mine. He was lazy himself, thus he was very accepting of my tardiness. I feel that his personality allowed me to reach my full potential in math. From the moment I first met Mr. Beelike, I could see a sparkle in his eyes, and feel the passion in his voice. It made me think about about becoming a mathematics teacher, just like Mr. Beelike. So I eliminated C's and D's from my report cards for the rest of my high school career. All of these life experiences paved the way for my future career as high school mathematics teacher.
It is summer, I have just completed -or at least, partially completed- 9th grade. I have always considered myself a failure. Though my parents have Ph. Ds, and my older brother got accepted into Yale two months ago, I am the exact opposite. It is 7:00 AM right now on a bright and sunny day, and I am getting ready for the first day of the misery that is to come. To be more specific: summer school. During my freshmen year of high school, I got C’s and D’s in all of my classes. I never did the homework, and I also skipped some classes. To make things worse, I go to a private boarding school. My parents insist that it is good for me, but luckily, I only stay there during the school year. Thankfully it is co-ed, because I would hate to be in a school full of girls. What is really bugging me is that I am going to summer school for what both my parents got their Ph. Ds in – math.
I look up at my messy wardrobe and pull out two random pieces of clothing – one tank top that’s been tie-dyed and unwashed for weeks, and a pair of my black leggings that I have never gotten rid of. As always, I leave my bed messy for my parents to clean up. I put on my red Cardinals cap from my nightstand as I tie my blonde hair into a ponytail. I look around to see if there are any notebooks for me to use, but I see none. Fortunately though, I find a pencil case filled with number 2 pencils. I head towards my backpack to see if anything else was to be needed. Somehow, there was a red Hilroy notebook with the word “Nirvana” written across it many times. With everything ready, I leave my room to go find my parents to see if one of them could drive me.
"Mom? Dad? I've got to go to school now. Is it possible for one of you to drive me?" I asked.
"Nope, Erin, I'm leaving for work in 2 minutes. You have to exercise anyways. Go walk for once." my dad replies. Mom doesn't even bother to answer. I leave the room and start walking to school. Thankfully, the sky is blue and clear. The sun filters through the clouds, signalling the end of the rain. It's a nice day out, and flowers are shooting out here and there. With an apple in my mouth, I search through my bag to see if I am missing anything that I need for school. I realize that I forgot my math textbook at home. I turn back lazily to get my dull, boring textbook, and bump into some guy.
After climbing up two flights of stairs, I finally find my classroom. I grab a seat in the back corner of the room, because every other seat is occupied. It is 8:45 in the morning, and the class is supposed to start at 8:30. However, I do not notice any teacher standing or sitting in the entire room.
''What's going on here?'' I ponder to myself. Five minutes later, the school principal walks in and informs the class that the teacher will be a bit late. It takes me quite a bit of time and mental effort to realize that the school principal is the guy I ran into this morning.
''What a coincidence?'' I think to myself, ''I guess the dude I bumped into is our principal. He must be a clumsy one, just like me.'' I laughed loudly at myself afterwards.
The principal continued speaking, "My name is Mr. Tyler, how is everyone's day?"
"Good!" Students shouted.
"So what class is this?" Mr. Tyler asked.
One student replied, "Math 10."
"Math... right, that is a fun subject to learn. I had this teacher named Mr. Booze, he was probably the best math teacher! He liked to set things on fire and make jokes about the class. Once he..." Mr. Tyler's voice faded out in my mind, as I drifted into my own little world. I was too lazy to listen about his past. Since I had only slept for six hours that past night, I was tired. I looked outside, at the sky, it was still sunny and full of clouds. I checked my watch; it was 9:10. "God! I wish time could move faster! The class isn't even half over yet!" I thought to myself. The whole class burst into laughter. I had no idea what they were talking about, and was too lazy to care. Suddenly, my heart dropped - I heard footsteps approaching.
"Hey, Mr.Beelike! You finally made it!" Mr.Taylor shouted as a person showed up at the front door looking rushed and messy. My attention was suddenly drawn to him. Similar to my assumption, my math teacher was dressing in a faded T-shirt, and a pair of old-fashioned trousers. I was feeling lucky because I could feel he was not a strict teacher; rather quite an amiable one. At first glance, I could feel his enthusiasm and passion, even from the back row. Mr. Beelike and Mr. Tyler exchanged greetings; Mr. Beelike first apologized for being late, and then began to introduce himself. He talked all about himself. His hobbies, his family, and the schools that he had been teaching in. I grew bored, and started devising a plan to skip summer school. The class fell silent suddenly, and the students all stared at me. I was not aware that Mr. Beelike had reached the front of my desk, and that he was casting a shadow on me.
"You look like you are thinking about something joyful," Mr. Beelike joked, kindly. "Would you like to share it with us?"
Having so many strangers focused on me for the first time made me feel quite awkward and somewhat irritated.
"Uh." I am so embarrassed by so many strangers staring at me, and I can't think a single word in my head. " Well, I understand your feeling. I was a student who had C's and D's when I was in grade 10. I will try to rekindle your interest in math class." It seems like Mr. Beelike is a nice teacher, and that he's just trying to make me feel better in front of the class. After the conversation between us, he went back to his own table and handed out course outlines. I take a look at the sheet and Mr. Beelike started talking. "As you can see, we have 6 chapters..." The boredom starts to creep up on me; I don't think this teacher will rekindle my interest in math. About 5 minutes later, he finishes talking about the course outline, and starts to talk again, but this time in a serious tone. This caught my attention. "You will have your provincial exam in August, and I hope you all take this seriously because grade 10 is really important to your high school career, and your applications to universities and colleges. I hope that everyone passes this course." He sounds the same as all the other teachers. I start plan to about skipping summer school again.
"Look outside class. Wouldn't you rather be spending your time with your friends on this beautiful day? It doesn't make any sense to spend 9 or 10 months a year in school, just to do it all over again in summer. You could make this your last few months at summer school. All you have to do is try harder next year, so you can spend the next summer outdoors. I know that everyone is perfectly capable."
"Oh please," I thought. Even if I did try harder, there was no way that I'd ever understand this subject. I've always been better at creating art and playing sports, not reading this strange language of numbers and symbols.
Mr. Beelike starts to talk about chapter one as soon as he finishes his so-called presentation on the outline. He wrote some questions that seemed familiar on the board. My mind started to wander again.
"I should totally skip summer school." I get my phone out from my backpack and proceed to text my friend. The class falls into the strange silence again. I look up, and Mr. Beelike is staring at me. “Can you come up and do this question please? I don’t think that it's too difficult, come up and try.” I am totally caught off guard, but I don't panic.
I hide my phone as quickly as possible behind my pencil case. I get up and walk toward the board. I take one glance at Mr. Beelike, and there he is - watching me, expecting me to answer the question perfectly. I sigh. "Why should I be the one who comes up and does the question." I stopped at the board and stood there for a few seconds. "Whatever, I will just solve it in a random way, and then let the teacher fix the mistakes I make." I picked up a piece of chalk and started writing. Mr. Beelike didn't say anything. He looked at me quietly and waited until I finished. "Do you think you know how to do this?" He asked with a nice smile. "I don't think so." I knew what I wrote, so I answered his question honestly. He began to question me: "Then why don't you just say you don't know, there's nothing wrong with it. Now go sit down and I will show you and the class how to solve these kinds of problems." Mr. Beelike kept smiling at me which made me feel weird. I couldn't tell what was actually in his mind.
He started to show us how to solve that problem, but I had no interest in it. I got out my phone again and continued to text my friend. After a few seconds, Mr. Beelike stopped talking. Suddenly, he came up to me. I held my breath and quickly hid my phone. I heard the footsteps coming closer and closer; I looked up. He stood at my desk and smiled at me. "That's so weird." I thought. Normally, teachers would take away my phone, they never smile at me when I am texting in their class.
He stood there, silent for a couple of seconds and then said to me. "Listen kid, I know this isn't your passion, nor is it what you want to do, but you can’t just not do it. Life won’t get any easier as you grow up, so learn to deal with things as they come."
I turned my head, not convinced about what he had said. I don’t like math it’s hard, it’s complicated, it doesn't make sense and it’s useless! This is literally what was going through my mind the whole time. He then asked me about my hobbies. "Computers! Oh I love computers! Their programs, the many services they offer, the way they function, their format, the mouse, the keyboard and just everything about the computer world."
Mr. B smiled, looking very happy about my enthusiasm. He then told me something that cheered me up and gave me hope. He said that if you like something, you should always do your best regardless of how pricey or difficult it may be. He said: "Now for the love of computers, promise me that you'll do well in math, in order to get into computers and explore more about them." I got inspired and motivated about what Mr. B had told me, payed attention, and told myself that for the love of computers, I’ll pass this course.
*
As I walked towards my classroom, half anxious and half excited, I was curious about the students with whom I would be spending the whole year. I was looking forward to establishing genuine connections with each individual student, and trying my best to show them how fun math can be. I arrived at the heavy, beige, oak door, which had reminded me of a prison door for much of my high school years. I carefully peeked through the window. There I saw a number of little heads popping up from their books, cell phones, and iPods: every one of them different and unique. They portrayed a range of various personalities that I would have to deal with. I could already tell that this class was going to be interesting. I took a deep breath and walked into the classroom as confidently as I could. All eyes were on me now. I cleared my throat.
"Hello everyone, welcome to math 10. I am Ms. Wilkinson, your math teacher for the year."
Now that I was taking a close look at the class, I distinguished the diverse expressions of the students. About one third of them appeared eager and enthusiastic, with shining eyes and a boisterous, "Hi Ms. Wilkinson!". The remaining two thirds looked exhausted and unmotivated. I was almost finished scanning the class when one student caught my eye. She was distinctively familiar, like I had met her a very long time ago. Her blonde hair was messily tied back, she was wearing a tie-dyed tank top, black leggings, and lastly, a Red Cardinals cap. Then it came to me. "Oh My Gosh. She was a replica of me in Grade 10!'' I thought.
I was determined to make sure that this class fulfills it's highest potential in Math 10. Everyone seemed hardworking and respectful, which made me love my job even more. Everyday, at the beginning of class, I would tell my students to hand in their three worksheets, which I gave them every class. Every time I marked the girl with the Red Cardinals cap's worksheet, it felt like I was marking an adolescent version of myself. Even her hand writing was very similar! The way she wrote her a's made me think of my day's, back when I was a teenager. Still, she seemed much brighter than I was. I made some bad decisions as a high school student, some of which I will never forget. For example, the time that I lost my red cap much like hers. As I observed her behavior in class, I noticed that she was quite and shy as well as a bit confused of what was going on around. However, she was attentive in class. I wanted to talk to her, and get to know a little about her personality. Mostly for my own selfish, nostalgic reasons.
During the class, everyone was really quiet and attentive as I explained how to solve a question. But when I browsed the whole classroom, I saw the replica of me. She was looking down at her pants. I knew what was going on. I asked her to come up and solve the question, instead of asking her to put her phone away. She just stood there. I could tell that she didn't know how to do it, so I said: "Why don't you just say that you don't know how to do it." She looked at me. After a second I smiled at her, because I had realized that they're teenagers, and that's what teenagers do.